After partly avenging her mother's death, Evette Star, the illegitimate daughter of an elven king, sets off on a warpath to find the adversary of her people.
The human King in the West, Dracul Dregoth, has locked himself away in a stone tower for r...
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The dark oversized wolf tore through the wagon's thick canopy with its claws. It revealed the distraught elves who fearfully clung to each other beneath the curved wooden spines. They screamed in terror as it let out yet another rumbling bellow.
Evette charged toward the beast, a determined grunt escaping her lips as she did. She struck her target's thick foot, and pushed with all her might to sink the sharp tip of her sword deeper into its fur covered flesh. The monster groaned and glanced down. Its tail dared to swing at her, but she ducked in time.
Sweat greased Eve's forehead as she drew rapid breaths. She slid her sword out from where it impaled the beast, and watched as the wound sealed shut. It was magically healed the moment she removed her blade. She held the cold metal close, unsure of her next move.
A mangled tail wrapped around Evette's body, and she struggled against its tight hold. Gravity forcefully brought her sword down, and the blade let out a silent cry as it abandoned its wielder. Red spots clouded her vision, leaving her vulnerable and helpless. Her arms were flush against her sides, and she could not move her hands. She felt the dagger tucked at her waistband press hard against her, the uncovered blade drawing blood.
Morgan was scooped up by the monster who held Evette. She kicked and screamed as the beast's claws carefully held her small frame. It examined her, and carefully sniffed her. Eve watched as the girl shut her eyes tight, bracing herself for what was to come.
Eve gasped for air. She felt herself slowly slipping away. Her heavy head was no longer supported by her sore neck, and her gaze shifted away from the wolf who held her. Narcisse was far away now; his shadow could be seen ahead of the horses who wished to run. He viciously fended the white, one-eyed creature. The creature lunged at him, and he was careful to not trip as he retreated away. Through tired eyes, Evette could see his eyes fall upon her. He witnessed her collapse in the tight embrace of her attacker. He watched her slip into the darkness that awaited her in her unconscious. She would have fallen deeper, past the surface layer of shadow and into the fiery abyss on the other side, if it were not for his quick thinking. He barked orders that she could not hear, and he did what no other would have. He had a split second, and he used it to his advantage.
He had not thrown a blade in ages. For Narcisse, the action was one of muscle memory. He threw the small black dagger in his hand with dangerous force. It tumbled in the air like a stone on a river, skipping on the imaginary water that flowed beneath it. When it struck the tall beast's right ear, it forced a mewling cry to erupt from the young wolf's throat. His tail wagged from the pain, and he dropped Evette on her back. The air was knocked from her lungs.
Evette opened her eyes, but found herself frozen in place from the shock of the fall. A reminiscent memory brought her back to the moment she recalled falling from the ledge outside of her window in Tigerstar. She could somehow feel the grass beneath her, and the exhilarating air of sudden freedom touch her skin. Her legs twitched, and she turned on her side, forcing her knees up to her chest. She was home in that moment; free from the fears of the outside world.
